


Imperare

by greygerbil



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Fantasy, Jealousy, M/M, Mpreg, Pining, Possessiveness, Pseudo-Ancient Rome With Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-09 15:48:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20997332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil
Summary: King Anastasius got pregnant on the first night with his new husband Nicodemus, which was fortunate, as Nicodemus had to leave to pacify a border region of the realm on the first day of their marriage. Now that he has returned, the newlyweds have to face their own feelings and the intrigues of the court.





	Imperare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dollyfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollyfish/gifts).

_Circumstances being as they are, my absence can’t be avoided. Still, I do wish I were with you, as the gods have decided we should be so very lucky and win our prize on the first night. As it is, I wish you and the babe all the best and I hope the senators have not yet succeeded in driving you mad, understandable as it would be._

Carefully, Anastasius pushed the letter under the wax tablet on which he took his notes during the senate hearings and tried to bring his flagging attention back to Quartius Libanius’ long-winded speech about his plans to convince peasants at the eastern seashore to turn their grain and cabbage fields into vineyards. It was a futile endeavour; the lands he spoke of were decent enough for what was planted on them, but wouldn’t have yielded a wine harvest that justified replacing the usual crop. Of course, Quartius was not so much concerned with the best use of the fertile earth, but with the money he made from the wine trade, as he controlled the biggest export company.

Anastasius gave his best not to let his displeasure show. They already had more amphorae than they could stuff on ships and drink themselves. As a king, he might have been baited by the tax cut that could be earned, but reason had to prevail at some point, surely, over simple thoughts of coin. The people needed food to eat, too. Perhaps Quartius would disapprove, but it was with a vision of stable sustainability that Anastasius had led their economy back on track after the wars of his forbearers had emptied the state’s coffers.

He let his gaze wander again. The senate was made up of the leading patriarchs and matriarchs of the eighty-four families that had founded the kingdom of Verulanium in the day of Anastasius’ ancestor, great Queen Octavia Sabina. One representative sat for each of the traditional patrician houses in whom the blood of the mages of old ran strongest, according to all texts and legends. Added to them were six elected citizens who served as tribunes and voices of the plebeian people. Together they were his chief advisors, but one was missing: the consort of the king or queen was usually granted a special position on a chair placed a little lower than Anastasius’ own seat facing the semicircle of benches on which the senate was placed.

For the sake of the realm, Anastasius had sent his husband Nicodemus Titianus to the western border on the very morrow after their first night together as a wedded couple. The administrator stationed there, Ollius Calvinus, had run into trouble with the Havarran mountain clans. Anastasius knew the young man, who was not blessed with skill in martial or diplomatic matters and really cared more about wine and whores than anything else, but had been strong-armed by his influential patrician family to go into the political career that was expected from the heir of such an illustrious house. Fulvia Calvina, a woman of imposing size and dark expression, great-aunt of Ollius and head of the family, had basically been welded to her front seat on the very first bench of the senate ever since Anastasius had only been a boy himself. She would not have allowed him to aim for lesser.

It was no surprise that in the letter asking for support, Ollius had begged for Nicodemus’ assistance specifically. The man had spent the better part of his twenties on battlefields at the ever-precarious western border. As all scions of house Titianus, he was specially instructed in the use of fire magic and widely learned in his house’s secret spells, of which each of the original families had some, all jealously guarded. Aside from his considerable personal prowess, his infamously personable nature secured him the adoration and loyalty of the troops as much as it allowed him to easily rule any festivity in the capital of Castra Regina. The fact that he was not only a man of great charm but also highly educated made him a good diplomat, too. Anastasius had trusted him to know when to use the flame and when the word long before he had married him and so this appointment was only sensible.

Again, his fingers rustled the edge of the letter. The right soil for cabbages and the intricacies of taxes, the complicated patterns of aqueducts in the cities and roadwork in the countryside, the balance of exports and imports, those were the things that Anastasius had a head for. It had not served him badly, to be fair. His king father and his father’s queen mother before him had been great warriors who had aggressively expanded the borders of the kingdom, but Anastasius found that what they had left behind was an often unstable patchwork that he was called on to keep in one piece. Thus, it barely mattered that he was not a very accomplished warrior or mage, either, though he’d dutifully learned all the water spells that the Sabinus family he belonged to had kept for themselves for centuries.

However, columns of numbers and a penchant for remembering the personal weaknesses of recalcitrant old senators were hardly going to win him the affection of one of the most admired men in his kingdom. He had Nicodemus’ hand in marriage, of course, and that should have been enough, but Anastasius had been drawn just as all the other many moths to the bright flame that was Nicodemus during the social functions where they had brushed shoulders over the years, and had fallen for Nicodemus in a matter of days as they prepared for the wedding and got to talking more often. You would think a grown man would be more sensible than to waste nights wondering who was in his husband’s tent right now when he already had an heir in his belly and thus should be satisfied, but Anastasius could not say that much of himself.

Taking a deep breath for patience, Anastasius draped a hand over his stomach as the child stirred inside him and made himself listen to the now ongoing debate about seaside vineyards so he could interject at the right moment and bury the idea for good.

-

It was a week later that Nicodemus returned to Castra Regina with the news of his success, which he gave on the senate floor in a rousing speech before clasping hands with Salienus Titianus, his father, the current patriarch of their house.

Anastasius watched him from his seat, again struck by how handsome Nicodemus was. The way he carried himself helped a great deal, no doubt, easy grace mixed with brimming energy. However, he also impressed through his imposing size and long limbs, which were lithe and muscular at once like the build of a well-bred hound dog. His vibrant eyes, of such an intense green they rivalled young leaves in spring, contrasted against dark skin the colour of hazelnuts. His close-cropped beard was of the same soft black curls as the hair on his head and framed full lips often pulled into an impish smile. The amount of precious stones and golden rings and chains he wore edged just on unacceptably decadent, but this very deliberate game with conventions had always been one Nicodemus played masterfully. As usual, he wore a toga picta, which he had earned long ago through victories on the battlefield, but which Anastasius suspected he chose not solely to boast of his successes, but because he preferred dressing in brightly patterned garb instead of the austere white togas which only allowed a border of saffron or purple to mark higher offices.

Anastasius himself had always best been described as plain, if you asked him, short but not uncommonly so, clean-shaven and with his dark hair kept only a couple of inches long as was the fashion, brown eyes, pale skin bordering on pallid. He could have worn more elaborate clothes due to his status alone, but usually opted for white fabric with a purple sash, which he now found himself wishing to fiddle with when Nicodemus looked his way, as it folded over his stomach in an unflattering way. Instead, he gave him a small smile before he called on the senate for order and went on to the next item on his agenda.

-

Between Nicodemus being pulled every which way by his many friends who were ecstatic to see him returned to the city after six months and Anastasius’ duties, Anastasius only managed to get a hold of his husband hours after the senate meeting, when the sun was sinking behind the red-tiled roofs of the city. Even then, he doubted it would have happened if they had not almost collided in the hallways of the palace. Nicodemus was the one who nimbly jumped out of the way and then steadied Anastasius with a hand on his shoulder.

“You are quite fast for a man burdened with child, your Highness,” Nicodemus said with an amused quirk to his lips. “Where are you running to?”

“Nowhere, except to my rooms,” Anastasius admitted with a light smile. “I think I have made my quick step a habit, abusing the right of way people grant the king.”

“There _are_ worse privileges you could be taking advantage of.” Nicodemus’ eyes lowered to his middle and Anastasius once more resisted the urge to fuss. “How are you and your guest faring?”

“Very well. Our task of simply staying put here was hardly as perilous as yours.” He looked up at him. Standing so close, it was more obvious that Nicodemus was a head taller than him. “I have ordered festivities for summer’s end in five days’ time. I hope you will honour the gods with me?”

“I thought it was general knowledge that I have never turned down an invitation to a feast?” Nicodemus joked.

“I try not to pay too much heed to gossip,” Anastasius answered, though he could not help a chuckle. He was aware of Nicodemus’ penchant for good company, of course, and knowing that Nicodemus would be back in time to celebrate this holy day had spurned him on to turn his usual austere series of visits to the temples into something more impressive to please his husband.

“Oh, but gossip is such fun!”

Nicodemus grasped him by the shoulders and gave them a light squeeze, which set Anastasius’ heart stumbling. He hoped it was not the surprise that had certainly been on his face which made Nicodemus let go again; he had not meant to deter him. However, it was difficult to look behind his blinding smile sometimes and find the true reasons for his actions and so Ananstasius could only guess at them now.

“Of course I’ll be there. The people must finally see that the king is spoken for.”

“I think you made that point clear,” Anastasius said, glancing down at his belly.

Nicodemus laughed and winked at Anastasius. “I have never been known for tarrying. But I will let you get to bed now, your Highness. It must have been a long day.”

With that, he strode past him, the golden arm bands tinkling and clicking together as he marched down the hallway with long steps. He was gone too fast for Anastasius to work up the courage to ask him to come with him.

-

Nicodemus’ behaviour towards him remained as it had been before their wedding – friendly, even courteous and at times flirtatious, albeit in a way that felt habitual. A respectful distance remained between them at all times. He also never asked to come to Anastasius’ chambers and Anastasius found himself tongue-tied to do so in return. Yes, he tried not to give gossip too much weight, as he’d told Nicodemus, but it was well-known that his husband did not like to spend his nights alone – he doubted Nicodemus would even have cared to say otherwise. Should a man like that not be eager to return to his husband’s bed? Perhaps he was not attracted to Anastasius in this stage of pregnancy or he thought his duty done and was now looking for other amusements. The worst possibility to consider was that he had never been interested at all.

Of course, it did not help that Anastasius spent most of his time working and saw very little of Nicodemus, who was paying visits to friends and applying himself to matters of his family. It seemed that until the evening of summer’s end, they had barely spent more than half an hour in the same place.

The gods smiled on their veneration, it seemed, for the weather was perfect for celebrations, with warm wind blowing in from the sea and a perfectly clear sky going through every colour in a painter’s palette before darkening to a silken blue studded with diamond stars and a sickle moon. Under this canopy, Anastasius had organised a feast for the common folk of the city in the great plaza before the hill on which the administrative buildings crowded while the senators and tribunes and their families celebrated in the courtyard of his palace.

The columns that lined the open space had been decorated with myriad wreaths of flowers. Benches to lie on and tables heavy with food and drink had been carried outside. An illusionist mage, one from the common folk who seemed no less talented to Anastasius than quite a few patricians he’d seen, sat murmuring in a corner, continuously weaving spells that allowed the edges of the courtyard to look like a lush forest. The servants seemed to vanish between its leaves when they went inside through the doors. Music from flute and cithara threaded between the voices and laughter.

Anastasius had been making the rounds to speak to everyone who would feel slighted if he did not address them, but his attention was always drawn again by Nicodemus. His husband had moved into the centre of the court and begun to show some magic of his own. With quick words and snaps of his fingers, which Anastasius suspected were only flourishes, he brought up flickering flames in various colours, shaped like flowers that bloomed in a second before vanishing into thin air again as their petals wilted away into nothing. A sizeable crowd had already gathered around him, most men and women their age or younger, some of which Anastasius had seen in his husband’s company before. Nicodemus laughed at their compliments and exclamations. When one exceedingly beautiful woman with long, auburn hair stepped close, Nicodemus pointed at the air above her head and let a flower appear there and explode in shimmers all over her tresses. This elicited jealous clamouring from his throng and soon the rest of them were treated to their own flaming roses and hyacinths and lilies, too.

“Your Highness! I haven’t seen you all evening. How have you been? We have just returned from our country villa…”

Anastasius gave his best to smile politely at the matriarch that approached, blocking him from joining the group. He wanted to go over and claim one of those fiery flowers for himself. Knowing Nicodemus, even if his interest in him had always been fleeting, he was much too smooth to leave his husband standing unheeded in the crowd. Perhaps, he considered, he was also jealous. Nicodemus was known to only ever brush up against scandal in a way that was decidedly premeditated since he was much too shrewd to stumble into it. He would not get drunk and drag an admirer into the storage chambers and cause Anastasius any shame. Indeed, Anastasius figured most of his playful compliments showed no deeper interest – although while a relief in this case, it was disheartening to know that the same was likely true for their own interactions. With his own status in Nicodemus’ heart so unsure, he could not smile at the antics.

Anastasius turned his attention back to the matriarch.

-

“Will you be able to visit my sister tomorrow?”

Anastasius sent Nicodemus an apologetic look over the rim of his cup. It was filled only with water, as nothing else seemed to agree with him these days. While the early pregnancy had been surprisingly easy, he felt it now in his muscles and bones, exhaustion creeping on him at the end of every day.

“I must apologise. I promised the tribunes that I would go before the public assembly. I hope she will not be unhappy with me.”

Nicodemus shook his head before popping a grape into his mouth and ripping another from the bushel that sat on the low table between them. They laid on benches, as was customary, and Anastasius was happy to get to take his own weight off his feet.

“The king has many duties, everyone knows as much. I just hope you aren’t cross with me for being everywhere in Castra Regina but the palace.”

“Your time wouldn’t be used well sitting in the palace by yourself. Feel free to roam as much as you like. You must enjoy being back in the city after you spent the majority of the last years out on the borders.”

“How do you figure?” Nicodemus asked with a grin.

“Well, it’s clear you have a lot of friends here. Besides, you seem like a man who knows how to enjoy the comforts of civilisations.”

Throwing his head back, Nicodemus laughed.

“You are still so polite when you chastise me,” he teased.

Anastasius gave a soft huff. “That wasn’t my intention.”

“I know. And you are right, there’s no place like Castra Regina, that much is true. Certainly no muddy collection of highland huts. Some people enjoy that sort of thing, but it has never been for me. I need an audience who is ready to appreciate me, not a gaggle of tired soldiers.” He smiled. “And I like to know that even when the moon is at its highest, there’s still someone not sleeping somewhere around.”

“I’ve always preferred the city myself,” Anastasius said with a nod.

“Then perhaps we can spare ourselves the customary journey to some countryside villa in the summer months, where the whole family can sit around pretending like they’re not bored out of their minds. I know the expectation is that I should go with our children even when you are busy, but…” He gave a deep, laboured sigh.

Anastasius laughed. “You can tell people I want you here to support me,” he allowed.

Nicodemus’ eyes twinkled.

“I see you are a merciful king.”

-

As pain and aches settled in, Anastasius also learned of another vexing side effect of the pregnancy: his base instincts stirred much more easily and more often. He had only had a pleasant conversation with Nicodemus this evening, but when he laid down in his bed, he found he could not let go of the image of his body languidly splayed out on the bench.

He fought it for a moment, embarrassed by how easily he was affected, but then decided that rather than thrashing about and wasting precious minutes of the time he had in the day to recuperate, it was best simply to take care of himself. Reaching around his belly had become awkward in the last couple of months, but he could still take a hold of his cock and he knew exactly which memory to call upon to make this quick and easy.

Nicodemus and him had only spent one night together, but it had been seared into the fabric of Anastasius’ mind, overshadowing most other intimate encounters of his life. He still remembered how he’d walked into the bedroom, hardly a virgin but rambling like one about the guests and the feast and every other thing that didn’t matter, until Nicodemus’ hands had settled on his hips and deposited him on the bed like a sack of linen. With Anastasius silent in surprise, Nicodemus had pushed his advantage, pressing him down onto the sheets. He was an irresistible force, his firm kisses and wandering hands all over him, and when Anastasius managed to escape his grip and put his mouth to work on Nicodemus’ cock, he had fucked into his throat as his hand held Anastasius’ head in place, though never gripping quite strong enough that Anastasius could not have escaped if he had wanted to. After he’d made Anastasius’ swallow his seed, he’d flipped him and pressed his tongue into him, leaving Anastasius gasping and squirming and red-faced, spreading his legs for him easily when Nicodemus, already hard again, had finally decided to take him, hammering into him so hard the wooden frame of the bed creaked against the wall.

Anastasius needed not to add to the memory, but simply to trace it again like a well-known text. However, after he’d spilled himself over his hand, he found himself only satisfied in body, not mind. Ever since Nicodemus had returned and not shown him any attention of the intimate sort, uncertainty tainted his fantasies, as starkly unromantic as him struggling around his size for a cloth to clean himself with now. Had Anastasius failed to impress him? The truth was that he’d allowed Nicodemus to hold the reins, figuring it was what he’d wanted. Perhaps he had only failed a test, though? It could be that Nicodemus found it difficult to respect or desire a man who had allowed himself to be overwhelmed. He was a soldier, after all, perhaps used to more warlike stock than Anastasius.

He would have to ask him, Anastasius knew, but to do so seemed presumptuous, almost importunate when he was already carrying their heir. The offer of the marriage had come from Nicodemus’ father when Nicodemus was still stationed at the border and while Anastasius had made his own approval conditional on a written agreement by the son, he knew well that no man or woman in the kingdom would have dared turn down a match like this if only for fear of their own family. Nicodemus’ father probably wouldn’t have talked to his son for the rest of his life. Plus, Nicodemus was obviously an eager and ambitious man himself. His consent may not have been given to placate his relatives, but that did not mean that he was happy to share Anastasius’ bed. A seat in the senate despite not being a patriarch and the king’s ear whenever he pleased to have it as well as the promise of immense wealth, power, and prestige were great incentives for anyone.

Anastasius did not begrudge him such thoughts. After all, he had also agreed to the marriage in part because Nicodemus’ addition to his family would mean he’d at least have one person in the royal household known for his martial prowess, a role Anastasius was unable to fulfil, and because his obvious wealth of magical talent would hopefully convince people that Nicodemus’ own somewhat lacking skills might be made up for in the next generation.

The match had not been supposed to be a love marriage. Anastasius told himself that he would do well to remember it.

-

“You will ruin your eyes like that, you know?”

Anastasius sat up straight when only inches away from his arm, a candle flickered to life without a hand anywhere close to light it. Turning, he found Nicodemus standing behind his chair in the last light of the sun slanting through the windows. Because of a succession of meetings, he had not seen his husband all day.

“For such a tall man, you can be very quiet.”

“Even tall soldiers must know how to lay an ambush to survive. It taught me a thing or two. However, you were distracted, so that helped.”

Smiling, Anastasius glanced out the window. “I hadn’t even noticed how late it got.” Something that had moved at the edge of his awareness, a niggling reminder, suddenly sprang up to full size. Anastasisus drew in air. “I was supposed to meet with the quaestors! Gods, I have gotten forgetful in these last couple of months. My head may as well be a sieve.”

When other pregnant people had told him that their memory got worse as their carried a child, he hadn’t been quite able to imagine it, but he could only agree to that observation these days. Unhappily, he could not clamber to his feet quite as hastily as the situation required. However, even his clumsy attempt to rise was blocked by Nicodemus, who took hold of his arm and gently pulled him to sit down again. The action surprised Anastasius enough to stay still.

When Nicodemus had assured himself that Anastasius would remain seated, he lowered himself on a corner of his desk.

“My king, the quaestors are beholden to your will, they are going to return tomorrow if you ask them to. Not the politest solution, I know, but you are hardly the type to do it to them often.”

“Is there a reason you want me to stand them up?” Anastasius asked, searching his face.

Nicodemus smiled briefly. “I just can’t help but notice that you are always working – which is commendable and probably necessary. I’m not chastising, but I can see it takes a toll on you.”

“Ah,” Anastasius said, feeling heat creep up his neck. How awkward that Nicodemus had to get so blunt with him to make his point clear. “I confess I thought I was more subtle than that. Thank you for making me aware.”

“I’m not here to tell you to try to look more chipper for the senate,” Nicodemus clarified, raising a hand. “I’m just worried you are going to collapse on top of a tribune or something of that sort. Which might not be _too_ bad – they do seem to like you, a miracle not many kings have managed to make happen, so they might catch you, even.”

The true concern in his voice, hidden behind the usual veneer of jokes, had warmth stir in Anastasius’ chest.

“I will not let any harm come to our child,” he promised. “And you have caught me slacking off right now, so I am not quite as diligent as you think.”

“I beg to differ on the matter of your diligence, but I also would like to know in what way this could be slacking off. It looks a lot like work to me.”

Anastasius lifted his arm completely off the scrap paper on which he’d been scribbling. There were groups of letters and numbers,

“I am just trying my hand at quadratic equations. A diplomat from Per-Atun in the south has shown them to me. Apparently, the scholars there work with them regularly. They are quite remarkable! See, you have three elements in them, the quadratic coefficient, the linear coefficient and the constant. It can get quite complex in practice, but it opens so many more doors to-”

He stopped himself as he found Nicodemus staring at him, then cleared his throat.

“Mathematics are a passion of mine,” he concluded quickly.

“You don’t say! You should have seen your eyes light up.” Nicodemus laughed. “Who would have known?”

The approval, gently teasing as it was, had Anastasius smiling.

“Well, people do call me more merchant than king sometimes.”

Nicodemus scoffed.

“Jealous voices of those who can’t keep their coin together. Besides, respectable merchants only concern themselves with mathematics for profit, not fun.” He picked up the paper. “You should try to explain it to me sometimes. I used to be quite accomplished at my lessons, if you can believe it, though I always favoured history and legends – tall tales to tell my friends.”

Anastasius knew well that Nicodemus had been considered sharp enough to become scholar in his time being tutored, but not that he’d listened with particular interest to stories. There were, he realised, very many things he did not know about his husband.

“I would be very happy to if you are sure I wouldn’t bore you.”

“My instructor would have bored me with it, but you? I don’t think so, no. Not with that smile, your Highness.”

Anastasius showed it to him one more time, though involuntarily so. “Your tall tales would be a very welcome distraction, too. You are right that I have been working so much that I feel dull at times, as if nothing but this palace and its concerns has a place in my head. That is no way too keep one’s mind awake.”

Nicodemus seemed to contemplate him for a moment.

“Stories might help, though as your husband I should offer more diversion than that. Nothing that interferes too much, but a small trip into the city, perhaps?”

“I’m free tomorrow around suppertime,” Anastasius answered.

He wasn’t, not yet, but he was confident he could make it happen without ruffling too many feathers. Grasping the hand extended to him by Nicodemus was all he needed for motivation to do so. Perhaps his offer was born mostly out of concern for the child, but that was a motive noble beyond many, and Anastasius would be happy for his company nevertheless.

-

Nicodemus waited for him at the palace gates with four guards, all standing to attention as Anastasius joined them in the golden light of an early evening. They made their way to the closest market at Nicodemus’ behest. Anastasius had donned a simple white toga and left all outer signs of his rank at home, being consequently swallowed by the crowd as he’d planned. His husband, lavishly outfitted as ever and desperately handsome, had all eyes on him. Anastasius figured that most here had to think Nicodemus was the greater lord and reason for their bodyguards, and Anastasius simply a friend of his from some minor house. The least amount of people would have seen his face up close or at any case remember it, even though Anastasius did head public ceremonies and appeared before the citizen’s assembly. Being neither very handsome nor very ugly, his features slid easily from peoples’ memory.

The lack of attention was pleasing to him, though. It allowed him to slip away from a moment in the company of two guards to look at the wares laid out by a goldsmith. The best way to show his husband his appreciation would have been to have a piece commissioned for him, but perhaps a sweet, spontaneous gesture would do, a present to thank him for his concern. Though he did not know the minutiae of Nicodemus’ taste, he had noticed that for his jewellery he preferred bright copper and gold over silver and iron, red, orange, and yellow stones over calmer green and blue. Whether it was simply their lively colours he enjoyed or how fiery they looked in the right light, calling back to the element he controlled, Anastasius hoped he could make a choice that pleased him.

He let the merchant show him the rings on offer and picked a gold band inlaid with a red ruby that glittered in the beams of the sinking sun when Anastasius moved it. The payment was made quickly, as Anastasius had carried some money to treat his husband to whatever pleasures he wished.

Sliding the ring into a small pouch he wore under his toga, Anastasius stepped back to ask his guards if they had seen where Nicodemus had gone. As he turned, however, he found that both of them had disappeared. Even looking up and down the street, crowded with people wearing civilian garb where two men in armour with high, decorated helmets should immediately have stuck out, they were nowhere to be seen.

A woman jostled him, pushing him deeper into the fray of the crowd. Anastasius opened his mouth to call for his guards, but though his tongue and lips moved, not a single sound came out.

Before he had time to even think, he was shoved in the back again, more insistently this time. He stumbled onwards in the mass of moving people and, as panic finally broke through the dumbfounded surprise, tried to grab on to a passer-by’s arm to alert her, but found his wrist pressed to his side, firmly but almost gently, not abrupt enough to look strange to the people hurrying by.

Two men and a woman crowded around him as they pushed him into an alleyway, even as Anastasius dug his heels in and tried to squirm out of their grasp. When this did not work, he twisted his head around to at least look at the faces of his attackers. He’d never seen them before and they were dressed in simple white togas to fit in with the other visitors of the market.

_Assassins_. Good ones, too. They had the magic and tactics to match, a subtle and very difficult silencing spell that clung only to one person instead of blanketing a whole area. Without words, Anastasius had no way to call for help or conjure magic, lacking as it would have been.

His heart pounded in his ears. He had to think of something and fast before they killed both the unborn child and him. He could feel his babe now, struggling and shifting as if it sensed its anguish.

When they were around a corner, another narrow alley lying deserted before them, one man pushed his arms under his shoulders, holding him in place. The second reached out and wrapped his hands around Anastasius’ throat.

He kicked out, but the man barely seemed to notice. His face was blank. Professional, Anastasius thought, as he gagged. No unwanted feelings, no unnecessary violence. Why had he let himself get so distracted? His guards had probably been silenced as well, if only that. Were they dead? He kicked out again, aiming for the man’s crotch, but his large stomach hindered his movements and he was struggling for air. Black shadows licked at the edge of his fading vision.

A burst of flame lit the alley up as if the sun had fallen down into it. There was a scream behind him and Anastasius heard himself gasp as the man who was strangling him relaxed his grip, looking past Anastasius.

Anastasius’ struggle for breath had been audible – the silence spell must have worn off. Immediately, he wound his arm out of the screaming man’s grip and pushed his hand forward, grabbing the strangler’s face. His water spells were not strong, but now he could speak the word and this released a rush of water directly into the man’s half-opened mouth and his nose. As he stumbled backwards, sputtering and choking, Anastasius tore free and clumsily evaded the woman’s attempt to grasp him. As he did, he saw that the one who had been holding him was on fire, his toga and hair set ablaze.

As guards rushed past him to apprehend his attackers, Anastasius stumbled in the other direction towards his husband, who stood at the corner of the alleyway. Painted in the stark shadows of the flames he had lit, a whole wall of them cutting off the escape route to the other side so the assassins could not flee without going through him or the fire, it was suddenly not difficult to imagine him on a battlefield when before he had seemed so singularly fitted for the setting of a feast or function. Even Anastasius felt a shiver down his spine as he ducked behind him, seeing the way his eyes shone with fury.

Nicodemus was as quick with the blade he’d been carrying under his toga as he’d been with his spells. Anastasius counted three palace guards fighting with him, apprehending the men, but as he looked around the corner down the alley that led to the market street, he found the fourth cowering there, wiping his bloody lip and nose. He locked eyes with Anastasius – one of his was swollen shut – and then bowed his head, full of regret. Anastasius felt nothing but relief that he was alive at all.

Assassins were trained to walk the shadows, surprise people with their spells when their guard was down, and slip away through gaps. They did not stand up to the frontal assault well. The flame-wreathed fight that burned the air lasted only moments. Anastasius recognised the other guard who’d been with him. He was holding his bleeding arm, but looked otherwise alright, if somewhat vengeful as he pressed the heel of his boot down in the back of one assassin’s neck.

Nicodemus lowered his sword and swung around, pacing towards him. Sparks still flew from him like from the ashes of a just-extinguished hearth fire. He grasped him by the arms, a frown on his face.

“We are alright,” Anastasius said, though his voice sounded rough to himself. “I think we are.”

“I just wanted to fetch us some sweets,” Nicodemus said breathlessly with a smile that sat askew. “That teaches me to try to charm a king like we are both boys stealing away behind the tutor’s back.” Before Anastasius had a chance to react, Nicodemus turned to one of the soldiers. “You, fetch the city guard. I will take over your prisoner.”

-

The three assassins were dragged into the dungeons, where they would be kept for further questioning, as Nicodemus told Anastasius with bitter anticipation in his voice. While Nicodemus ensured they were properly locked up and gagged so they would not be able to speak spells, Anastasius commanded that double the guards should be stationed and found that somehow his husband had already managed to give that same order since they had arrived.

Nicodemus joined him again after Anastasius had been looked over by a physician, waiting outside the door. Bruises bloomed on Anastasius’ body, proof of his useless if earnest attempt at a defence, and the strangulation marks laid around his throat like a necklace. His husband looked him up and down, obviously attempting not to crowd him as Anastasius corrected the seat of his toga, which the physician had lifted to inspect him.

“I heard you changed the guard rosters,” Anastasius said.

“It seemed pertinent. Forgive me if I overstepped.”

Though Anastasius believed that Nicodemus had not wished to anger him, he was also convinced Nicodemus would always have done this even if he could be sure of Anastasius’ displeasure. Better to ask forgiveness later. He smiled slightly.

“No, you are right. You must not worry about the child, either. The physician says it is still moving as it should.”

“I’m glad for that, but what about you? You were the armour our babe was hiding behind.”

“Nothing time won’t heal – which is thanks to you. How did you find me?”

“They incapacitated both of your guards with misdirection spells, though one resisted the pressure more than they thought, so they reached for less complicated means to get him out of the way, as you saw – I think he is currently getting treated for his broken nose. When the other guard bumped into me, quite literally, and seemed unable to even say my name, it confused me enough that I kept an eye out.” He snorted. “Your second guard sat crumpled on the ground like a common drunk, only a few paces away from the alleyway that they had pulled you into. I suppose they did not dare risk dragging you halfway across the market for fear of getting attention and they certainly expected to finish you off quickly.”

“The plan would have worked if not for your good judgement, Nicodemus. I owe you the life of my child and mine.”

“Then surely you would grant me one wish?” Nicodemus asked, summoning his usual charmer’s smile.

“Anything,” Anastasius said readily.

“I want to spend the night in your quarters and watch over you. It’s silly, I know, but would you indulge me?”

With everything that had happened today, Anastasius hadn’t thought he would be able to work up anything such as surprise again until he had at least gotten a few hours of sleep, but this did it. Nicodemus looked serious about his request. It made sense to be worried, of course. Anastasius would not pretend like the attempt on his life had not left him shaken and Nicodemus seemed to at least find him tolerable, not to mention that he would be worried about his unborn heir.

“Of course,” he said. “You are my husband, after all.”

“Wonderful,” Nicodemus said cheerfully, though his expression turned uncharacteristically stern immediately. “I will come to you later. Hopefully with information on why you got that delightful visit at the market.”

“I should come with you.”

Nicodemus frowned.

“It’s not my place to forbid you to do anything, but I am fairly certain that men in your condition are advised to relax and remain calm, which might be a bit challenging in a dungeon with three angry assassins and me, who is _much_ angrier.”

Anastasius smiled, despite everything. Perhaps Nicodemus was right. Between them, he was the one who had spent years at the front lines and could better stand up to this sort of brutality. Anastasius quite despised it, in truth, even though he had little pity on paid murderers who had tried to end the life of his child. Still, it was a big burden to hand over to him.

“I am the king,” he said uncertainly.

“And I your consort! That must count for something?” Nicodemus pressed.

“For much.” Anastasius sighed. “Tell them if they give up their employer, they will not be executed, but they will each lose a hand, as they have raised it against the royal family, and they will be driven from the land.”

It was as much as he could grant to tempt them but not make himself seem weak. In truth, while Anastasius flinched at just the thought of their faces, they had likely only been the weapon wielded by someone else. Killing them without getting names would be pointless.

“More merciful than I would be. That should be enough of a carrot to dangle before them,” Nicodemus answered.

“Then I will leave it to you to hold the stick on which it hangs.”

-

“I was very tempted to find some thumbscrews and an iron maiden, but I figured I’d let them stew over the offer you made for the night instead.” Nicodemus smiled as he approached Anastasius’ desk. “There’s little as effective for fostering doubt as trying to go to your honourable death with the secrets you swore to keep while considering if the people you worked with won’t make use of the offer given to them and save their hides. We just need one of them to break.”

“Should I worry that you are so well-informed on such matters?” Anastasius asked with a slim smile, setting aside the papers he had been poring over in an attempt to stop himself from repeating the memory of tight hands around his throat over and over.

Nicodemus chuckled.

“It’s just knowing about human nature. I’d wager that most successful socialites could double as torture masters without losing much of their effectiveness. When it comes to the finer points, the skill sets are not all that different.” He cocked his head. “It does help not be afraid of blood.”

“I feel like I have seen enough patricians ready to spill some into the wine when its past midnight, so perhaps it wouldn’t be too much of an impediment,” Anastasius answered as he pushed himself up from the desk.

“That’s the point at which most festivities become _really_ fun.”

Though Nicodemus was still grinning, his eyes went down to Anastasius’ throat again, to his arms, where the marks of the struggle had grown a deep, angry purple.

“It will heal,” Anastasius said softly.

“I know. I just feel awful because I was the one who dragged you outside. I thought I might be doing you a favour, but you had it right all along, your Highness. You would have been safer behind a desk.” He snorted. “I’m happy you haven’t suspected me yet, in truth.”

The idea was not altogether outlandish. Anastasius knew of quite a few families where death had come from the closest hands and he would lie if he said that the thought had not come into his head for a brief second. It was only because he had navigated the higher society of Verulanium for so long that distrust became habitual, though. Neither facts nor his feelings told him that Nicodemus had anything to do with this.

“Well, the prisoners haven’t spoken yet, so I can’t be sure,” he answered, with a bit of a smile.

Nicodemus laughed. “You’re right.”

“However, the guards said you were the one who led them to the alley and that without you, they wouldn’t have known where I was. If those were your people, you would have destroyed a plan that was going perfectly well. And it would be much smarter of you to kill me when I have given birth.”

“Being father to a ruler in swaddling clothes is much preferable to being the last king’s widower, yes.”

“That means I still have two months to live,” Anastasius murmured. “I am lucky.”

Again, Nicodemus’ gaze flicked down to Anastasius’ neck. “Ah, I would keep joking, but I fear I don’t have the stomach for it right now, your Highness.”

“Then let us head to bed instead.”

Anastasius’ bed was broad enough for two by far, though they had only made use of that once. Even with everything else that had happened today, he found himself reminded of their first and only night together as they walked in through the door. Nicodemus hadn’t even left him time to take off his clothes, then, but he kept a few paces away from him now.

_I have not asked him, either_, Anastasius reminded himself, hesitating for a moment. On the one hand, it was possible Nicodemus was waiting for an invitation; on the other, he might carefully have turned it down by simply not visiting Anastasius’ chambers and might feel awkward if Anastasius pressed the matter now.

He would have to get undressed no matter what, so perhaps he could at least give Nicodemus a gentle nudge like that. However, as Anastasius reached down to unwrap his toga, his fingers brushed the small satchel at his hip. In all this chaos, he had forgotten about the gift.

“There was a reason I turned my back on my guards,” he said, pulling the satchel off and reaching inside. He presented the ring to Nicodemus, holding it in his flat palm. “I figured you might like this, even if it is not enough to excuse all the trouble today.”

Staring, Nicodemus picked the ring from his hand and slipped it onto his finger, bending it to let the light of a candle catch in the red ruby.

“Now this is unexpected. I figured you only tolerated my style, not that you would actively support it – since you are always so soberly dressed, my king.” He gave him a bright grin. “Thank you.”

Anastasius shook his head.

“You are very handsome decked with gold and precious stones, Nicodemus. I cannot present them with the necessary confidence, nor do I have the right look. They would hang off me like I were an overly decorated piece of wooden furniture. But I do very much enjoy them on you.”

“Nonsense! You could be dressed in gold from head to toe if you wanted. I will not reject a compliment, however. Please, look at me as much as you like.”

Nicodemus had taken a step towards him and Anastasius decided that even if he could not be sure whether he really meant his words, he had to make a move now. He put his hand on Nicodemus’ elbow and pushed himself onto his toes to rock up into a kiss. To his great relief, he was not left to awkwardly fall back on his heels. Nicodemus embraced him, pulling him as close as Anastasius round stomach allowed, and kissed him firmly. His hand cradled the back of Anastasius’ neck, holding him in place, and his tongue forced its way into his mouth, not rough but demanding. Anastasius angled his head and leaned it as he felt the heat bristling in his core, the remnants of his panic only more kindling on the flames that sprang up so easily these days.

Nicodemus drew back with a roguish smile that nonetheless looked somewhat apologetic.

“You probably want to get some rest now.”

“I doubt I could sleep,” Anastasius answered, not letting go of Nicodemus’ arm.

“You’re still not tired after this day? You have an amazing constitution, your Highness.”

“I’m too fearful rather than too energetic, I suppose. But if you would rather rest – you did fight today.”

Instead of an answer, Nicodemus simply pushed into him, waiting for Anastasius to walk backwards towards the bed. He did, staring up into Nicodemus’ beautiful green eyes, more startling than any jewel, and sat when he had reached the edge of the bedstead, laboriously crawling backwards with the cumbersome weight he was carrying before him.

His husband lowered himself just enough that his flat stomach brushed Nicodemus’, giving him another kiss before he moved to his side and grasped him by the shoulder, turning him around to face away.

“Let us take things slow tonight. I would rather not be the reason you broke down after all this.”

His chin leaned on Nicodemus’ shoulder and his leg covered his. He had him pinned down again, Anastasius realised, but the weight and presence of him was comforting. He reached down to caress Nicodemus’ thigh.

“You have a high opinion of your skill, don’t you?” he joked.

He felt Nicodemus’ chuckle warm against his ear.

“Let me come to your bed another night and I will show you I’m not boasting,” he purred as he slid his hand down Nicodemus’ side, fingers playing over his hipbones. Even his small touches were so well-placed that Anastasius wondered if he had somehow forgotten a dozen nights they had spent together, as Nicodemus seemed to know just what to do to get him going.

“Is that a promise?”

“But of course.”

He gently pulled at Anastasius’ earlobe with his teeth before he wrapped his fingers around his cock, which was already standing to attention and gave a twitch as grabbed it. Anastasius huffed a quiet breath as Nicodemus stroked him. There was little patience in his movements and he pressed tightly against his back, like he still worried that Anastasius could be pulled away from him. Anastasius’ beading precome made Nicodemus’ fingers slippery and Anastasius reached aimlessly behind himself, trying to touch Nicodemus, pull him even closer.

There was a brief halt as Nicodemus shifted. Anastasius felt the drag of his cock, which had been nestled against Anastasius’ backside so far, and shivered as Nicodemus grabbed his knee and raised his leg, positioning him so that he could push his manhood between his thighs.

“Your legs really look much too good to be hid away by a toga at all times,” Nicodemus said, smiling against Anastasius’ neck as he ran his hand down the front of his thigh.

Anastasius thought that he was not nearly as well-formed as Nicodemus, who had a soldier’s body every inch. He enjoyed Nicodemus’ flattery too much to resist it, though.

“If that were the basis for being dressed, then you would not need to wear clothes at all,” he gasped.

Nicodemus laughed. “Is that so? Who knew that you could be such a flirt, your Highness? Oh, I must give you a reason to compliment me more.”

As he spoke, he rocked his hips into him and the insistent force of his movement was almost better than the touch of his hand. Anastasius grabbed hard on to the sheets, fabric twisting as he tightened his legs around his husband’s cock, gratified to hear Nicodemus gasp in response. Already he could feel the pressure building inside him and he wished he could have pushed it off, enjoyed his husband’s presence a little longer, but it had been too long without stimulation that didn’t come from his own hand and increasingly spoiled memories.

Nicodemus rumbled some encouragement in his ear as he spent himself. When Anastasius’ cock was limp in his hand, he moved his fingers between Anastasius’ thighs to coat them with the slick seed. Anastasius gave a weak groan. There was something terribly debauched about feeling Nicodemus ease his own movement in such a way. He twisted his head around to kiss him and Nicodemus fulfilled his wish, raising his head to press their lips together as the movement of his hips grew frantic. Anastasius could feel the whole of his body tighten like a bowstring, then release.

After a moment of regaining his breath, Nicodemus grabbed a loose sheet to clean both of them. Anastasius thanked him with a nod as he turned on his back, which in his state was already a bit of a chore. He saw Nicodemus watching his awkward movements with a smile.

“I feel compelled to point out that this is your handiwork,” Anastasius said, smiling lopsidedly.

“And it turned out very pretty.” Nicodemus hesitated. “I thought I had felt the child move, in fact, as I reached around you.”

“It stirs a lot even now. The day must have been exciting for the babe, too.”

Anastasius offered his hand and when Nicodemus gave his, he placed it on his stomach. It was interesting to see Nicodemus’ eyes widen, for he had gotten very used to the fussing of the child already. As Nicodemus followed the movement with his palm, Anastasius’ eyes fell shut. The day had been long and he allowed exhaustion to take him knowing that his husband would have on eye on their heir and him.

-

“You focus on your work here and let me deal with Quartius. I will have him in your dungeons by the end of the day.”

Anastasius watched as Nicodemus strapped on his helmet, perfecting the elaborate gold-plated armour he wore.

“I still can’t believe that he is behind it. All over riches when he already has more than he could ever spend?”

“But of course. It’s a very common reason for murder. One of the old classics, in fact.”

“It was probably not about his damned wine alone,” Anastasius murmured, half to himself. “He never agreed with my policies. He may have figured I would stop him at every other turn, too.” With a frown, he glanced out of the window where a small collection of soldiers had gathered in an inner courtyard, mixing among the guards. They had managed to keep the capture of the assassins a secret – only a handful of guards and the physician knew they had tried to kill him –, so perhaps it would be possible to get to Quartius before he caught wind of the fact that his plan had already failed and his hired hands had betrayed him. As the assassins had obviously only waited for Anastasius to step foot outside the palace, there likely hadn’t been an agreed time and date of the attack.

“Let’s make sure you won’t have to bother.” Nicodemus pushed his sword into the scabbard as he turned to him. “I will be on my way, your Highness, and hopefully in time for noon I can present you with another prisoner.”

“Be careful,” Anastasius cautioned. “He obviously does not have many scruples and when the king’s soldiers enter with swords, he will know he has nothing much left to lose, either.”

“Don’t worry. I have never failed to return from a battlefield.”

With a confident grin, Nicodemus swept out of the room. Anastasius could just see him walking off into battle at the crack of dawn, striding down the vast plains stretching before the mountains at the western border. He hoped Nicodemus would be as lucky as he had always been then and even though Anastasius knew that realistically, he himself would only have been in the way, he almost wished that he could follow to make sure Nicodemus was alright.

Anastasius did his best to work as usual. Though the marks on his neck drew a lot of looks, he only brushed aside the questions with polite dodges and forwent the daily audiences in favour of going through his correspondence, citing that the pregnancy was taking its toll. It was better not to have too many wild rumours spread before he could present a culprit and ensure people that the matter had been dealt with. He did not need to cause confusion and or give people reason to question his strength.

As he sat in his office on the upper floor, reading through the reports of his administrators in the farthest reaches of the realm, he suddenly noticed a strange smudge of dark in the blue sky from the corner of his eye. Turning to the window, he saw smoke rise in a thin spiral from the patrician’s district.

-

It took Anastasius all his willpower not to clamber onto a horse and see for himself what was happening, but in the end, there was very little he could have added to any fight but a burden to Nicodemus and his soldiers. Still, all thoughts of work had to be put aside in favour or nervously streaking about the chambers by the palace entrance after he had sent another squadron of guards out to support Nicodemus if necessary.

The crowd that was gathering in the street leading towards the palace was the first sign of something happening, about an hour after Anastasius had first seen the evidence of fire. Nicodemus led the group that came up the broad main street, parting the people. The guards had several men and women in chains, among them Quartius. As they closed in, Anastasius retreated back into the room where he took audiences to make it a little less obvious he’d been breathlessly waiting, his heart much lighter.

“Not as subtle as I’d hoped,” Nicodemus said, as he stepped through the door after a few minutes’ time. “The Libanius family also uses fire spells – though they cannot rival my house’s, naturally. Still, an explosive fight.”

“I saw smoke. Was anyone hurt?”

His eyes scanned Nicodemus and found that the fabric on his right upper arm was torn, scorched, and bloodied.

“A few burns and scratches and a part of Quartius’ house collapsed, but not on top of anyone, as far as I saw.” He snorted. “I suspect his family will have bigger problems soon enough.”

“And you captured him?”

“Oh yes, though I had to restrain myself. He had some choice names for you which made it very tempting to roast him in the rubble of his home.” Nicodemus smiled. “However, I figured you probably still need him for a trial. At least the things he said in front of a dozen soldiers will make for very colourful testimony.”

“Thank you again, Nicodemus.” Laboriously, Anastasius rose from his chair and approached to inspect the wound on his arm. It was not deep, but the bleeding must have been profuse. “You should go see a physician – to calm my mind, if not yours.”

“I should get a handsome scar out of this one to boast about,” Nicodemus answered and leaned down to place a quick kiss on Anastasius’ lips.

-

The small congregation that had been planned for this evening weeks ago still met in the great dining hall. Anastasius intended to prove that the attack had not cowed him, as news of it were now quickly making their round together with those of Quartius’ capture. Of course, it was easy to feign courage when Nicodemus was always in view. He’d kept one knife out of his back, Anastasius trusted him to block another if necessary.

Currently, his husband was surrounded by admirers as usual, indulging them with a tale of his latest success. Anastasius watched with mild amusement. He’d learned over the days of watching him that his sweet words and gestures were always fairly dispersed, down to gallantly complimenting old men and women and offering words of praise and jokes to children. He adjusted himself to the people he spoke to, feeling expertly how to win them over best and in many cases, that meant leaning into their attraction for him just a little.

Still, it was always nice to have his attention on himself. Anastasius remembered thinking the same thing at the last festivity, but in the end, he had not been courageous enough to join his husband and allowed duty to keep him away. It had not led to bad things when he had thrown caution to the wind last night, though. Why should he not try it in public? Perhaps he would get results that were just as encouraging.

The crowd parted as Anastasius stepped towards them. Nicodemus turned his head and grinned at him. As he stretched out his hand to put it on his shoulder, Anastasius noticed the red ruby on his left. It sat between a whole lot of gold – but only gold. No other jewel was on that hand to distract from its deep red colour.

“Did you have need of me, your Highness?”

“No, it just seemed like the most interesting conversation was happening here.”

“Ah, of course, it’s where I am,” Nicodemus proclaimed, to the shouts and laughter of his audience protesting his brazen arrogance. Nicodemus put his arm tight around Anastasius’ shoulders. “Although as much as I can brag about my victory today, I pale before the king. He must be made of the toughest steel to be standing here like this just one evening after such a vicious attack.”

With a smile, Anastasius listened to the lively talking that soon resumed, happy simply to sip from his cup and feel the weight of Nicodemus’ arm on him. He did not let go of Anastasius until the group drifted apart.

“Did you worry about me?” Nicodemus asked, when they stood by themselves for a moment. “I know I can be a little spirited around people.”

“I know,” Anastasius said. “You are very charming. As long as that is all it is, I have no cause for concern – I hope.”

“Of course not.”

Anastasius could almost believe him. He chose to do so. His husband had not yet given him true reason to doubt.

“Besides, you have been a great help. I will not pick a fight with you this evening of all,” Anastasius added with a smile.

“Well, you barely had me do anything else, my king,” Nicodemus said with a little more gravity in his voice. “I won’t pretend I didn’t enjoy being able to follow my every whim in the city, but I admit it made me wonder if you did not trust me to do anything but while the time away with my friends, especially since you work so much.”

“I sent you away for months right after our wedding,” Anastasius pointed out, puzzled. “I have nothing but the highest regards for your skills, I just didn’t want to abuse them.”

“That’s true, but that was a while ago now. Let me put those skills to task. I’m too selfish to go without an opportunity for praise for too long,” Nicodemus said, smiling impishly.

Anastasius had to laugh. “If that is what I have to do to oblige you, then I will be more despotic in demanding your time.”

“Excellent!”

They had walked together and ended up at a wooden bench at the end of the room. Nicodemus sat, prompting Anastasius to do the same. Again, he found himself glancing down at the ring.

“Are you sure you aren’t tired? I feel like I should be bringing you candied fruit or hold your feet in my lap, but you have proven to be a very resilient man,” Nicodemus said, raising a brow. “Perhaps that explains my need to show off for you in other ways.”

“You have been very accommodating,” Anastasius assured him.

“Really? I did little but prevent your imminent demise, which I think is a duty even bad husbands take seriously. But it is good of you to say. I am lucky to have a husband who is so easily satisfied.”

For a moment, Anastasius looked out over the small crowd of high-ranking officials before he turned to Nicodemus. “I wonder if you do feel lucky. I do know that you did not make the decision to marry me yourself, but I would like for our marriage to be pleasant for us. You may answer honestly, I promise not to be insulted.”

Nicodemus smiled. “Any man who would complain about wedding you would be mad. Marry a king who is handsome, smart, and without a herd of consorts, bad habits, or even an ugly temper? No, I was never going to take my father to task for that.” He halted. “However, I had little time to get to know you before. I liked you before I left, but now I should say it is more than that.” He gave a little laugh. “I was almost regretful that our first attempt at procreation had been so successful… I have always been very good at convincing people of my qualities when I had them to myself on a bed and it would have been an excuse to keep dragging you there.”

Anastasius felt his heart stumble a little. “You need no such tricks to capture someone’s heart, I assure you. I am the best example of that. However, you need not stop yourself from showing me all your qualities…”

Nicodemus looked pleasantly surprised for a moment before his smile turned wolfish. A call from across the room stopped the conversation, but Anastasius had a feeling it would not be the last time that he’d seen his husband tonight.

-

Anastasius had just stripped his toga when he heard the door to his chambers open. He seized up, despite knowing that two guards were posted in the hall; but through a gap in the half-opened bedroom door, he saw Nicodemus enter. Seeing Anastasius look at him from the other room put a smile on his face. He entered on quiet feet and closed the door behind himself. 

“I figured I would take your invitation right away. Not something I want to miss out on. Unless the festivities were enough excitement for now?”

Smiling, Anastasius sat on the bed.

“No, not when I was expecting you.” He halted, but made himself push on. “I have to admit that with the pregnancy, my instincts are very active – or perhaps it was just the memory of us together. Either way, it has been a bit of a struggle to be around you at times, not knowing whether you wanted me.”

Now that he’d cut through the first tangled knot and spoken to his husband, heard him say that he enjoyed his company, too, it felt easier to be honest again, even if the topic was intimate.

Nicodemus pulled off his boots before he approached, his brilliant necklaces clicking together as he cocked his head to regard him.

“Is that so? And here I thought I was being sensible by not bothering you with my desires when you have a babe growing inside you. What a neglectful husband I have been! I must make up for it.”

Nicodemus’ hand went to the back of his head, fixing him firmly for a kiss. The obvious greed in the motion and the way he pressed their lips together had heat rise to Anastasius cheeks and pool in the pit of his stomach, but succumbing too easily was what he had worried about and so he placed a gentle hand on Nicodemus’ chest, pushing against him.

“You are rather imperative whenever we come here,” he noted.

“I’ve been told so,” Nicodemus answered. “Does it bother you?”

“No, but I wonder if this is what you want or if you’d prefer a struggle – or a loss.”

Anastasius had not come into the marriage an innocent, either, though he doubted his experience was as great as his husband’s. There were a few things he had seen and heard about if not done himself, though, and he realised people had all sorts of tastes.

“I’m a leader from the battlefield at heart. I always want to win, your Highness, and I like my orders being followed,” Nicodemus said with a brief smile. “What about you?”

It was a relief, at least, to know that his husband had not been disappointed that he enjoyed his domineering tendencies.

“I was never a soldier. I have little experience with any such thing as a chain of command, but then, you seem happy to lead the way. I expect you will show me,” he said, almost playfully.

“I will enjoy every moment.” Nicodemus grinned. “After all, you already rule a kingdom, your Highness. I promise you not to be one of those consorts who tries to meddle in every one of your decisions if you let me rule here.”

Anastasius had to smile.

“That sounds like a fair deal. And since we are in private, you may as well call me Anastasius.”

“Anastasius,” Nicodemus repeated, rolling the name on his tongue. “Oh yes, I _like_ that.”

With a grin, he grasped Anastasius around the middle and laid him down on the bed. His fingers ran down his cheek over his jawline and his bruised neck, lingering there for a moment. His thumb brushed Anastasius’ throat very gently, but the memory of the attack was still fresh and Anastasius felt his pulse quicken. Nevertheless, he allowed it and Nicodemus looked pleased for his trust.

He leaned back a moment to slip off his jewellery, the loose chains and broad rings, all but the one with the ruby Anastasius had gifted him. He also got rid of his beautiful toga, patterned with orange flames against a dark yellow, revealing that his cock already stood. Anastasius reached out from his place on the bed, stroking it with his fingertips. It had just been between his thighs a night ago, but he’d been confused and frightened, too much so to take in more than the comforting and exhilarating base emotions of such close companionship. Now he enjoyed getting a good look at his manhood, thick and heavy against his palm, growing harder as he rolled onto his side on the bed and placed a kiss on it.

“You have such a nice mouth, Anastasius. I get distracted by it.” Nicodemus pushed his thumb between his lips alongside the head of his cock and exhaled sharply when Anastasius pressed his tongue between them. “The way you lick your lips when you listen very intently to something, like in the senate... it’s a wonder anyone can get work done there.”

“But your mouth is obviously much better for forming sweet words,” Anastasius teased, after pulling back a little. He could not deny the flattery touched him despite the fact that he liked to call himself a sensible man.

“I have many more where those came from, all for you. But it would be unfair to say I am all talk, don’t you think?”

Nicodemus brought his knee onto the bed, rolling Anastasius onto his back in the same moment. The difference in size between them suddenly seemed very stark as Anastasius saw him looming over him in a crouch like some huge beast of prey. Anastasius reached up to pet his muscular chest, for the first time noticing a thin scar that ran from his ribcage down to his navel. He would have to ask about it – about all of the marks on his body, speaking of a life defended with difficulty at times. He wanted to know all the stories Nicodemus could tell. Now, however, he dragged his hand up again, thumb rubbing Nicodemus’ nipple as his husband ravaged his mouth with his tongue and teeth, his small bites on the edge of painful, leaving Anastasius pushing wantonly into him.

“Please,” he found himself saying into his mouth. “I need you.”

Last night had been good and probably as much as either of them could take in the moment, but he wanted Nicodemus back inside him. The memory still twisted his nerves around every time it came back, left him clamouring for some sort of repeat.

“Do you have anything here to ease it?” Nicodemus asked quietly.

Anastasius face fell. He had not considered that. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Good thing I came here knowing what I wanted,” Nicodemus said in a gently mocking tone as he reached into the folds of his shed garment, pulling out a small glass bottle with a cork. “What would you do without me?”

“Not much anymore,” Anastasius said dryly as he pulled him close.

Nicodemus chuckled and kissed his shoulder before he wound himself out of his embrace. He pulled the cork out with his teeth, spilling a generous amount of oil on his fingers while keeping his eyes on Anastasius.

“Spread your legs.”

There was an order in that tone, not a question, and Anastasius felt his knees move apart as if by the force of invisible hands. It should have been embarrassing how easy it was for Nicodemus to direct him, but the lust in his husband’s eyes as he saw his obedience kept shame at bay for now.

Nicodemus dragged his wet hand down over his cock, stroking it until he was coated in the liquid, gently massaging his balls and lingering there as Anastasius shivered with anticipation, moving his hips in hopes of spurring Nicodemus on. His husband laughed, allowing his free hand to run up under Anastasius leg, lifting it to kiss the inside of his thigh.

“Where is your patience, Anastasius?”

“Lost somewhere during the last seven months.”

“I must say that is a reasonable answer,” Nicodemus said and slid his finger into him in one quick thrust.

Anastasius whimpered. He’d barely had time to seize up and Nicodemus gave him no moment of pause now, either, twisting his finger around, moving his hand to push into him.

“Ah, beautiful… just as responsive as I remember.” Nicodemus shifted to lean over him and kiss Anastasius. “You do like getting fucked by me, don’t you?”

“I think you proved it once.”

“True, but then I left. I hope you didn’t find anyone to fill the void… I would really hate to get into another fight this week.”

Though Nicodemus was grinning, Anastasius heard a possessive undertone.

“I have been much too busy for distractions, and too enamoured at that,” he answered with a smile, quite excited with the idea that his husband did not wish to share, voice breathless as he pushed himself up against his finger that teased him so masterfully, hoping to entice him to let the second one join, since it already pressed against his entrance. “And while I do not presume to have had a hold on you for that half year when you were gone, I do hope you can find what you seek with me from now on.”

“Contrary to my reputation, I have not been straying. Shame on you for suspecting such a thing, your highness. I shall punish you for it.”

As he said so, Nicodemus pushed in the second finger and bent both upwards, pressing firmly onto the spot in Anastasius that always had his toes curl and his cock jump. He stuttered a loud exhale.

“If that is punishment, I think I can take more.”

“Then you should be good and ask for it,” Nicodemus murmured into his ear.

Though Anastasius had of course encouraged and at times even begged before, to be prompted so directly still gave him a thrill.

“Please,” he murmured.

Nicodemus had brought one broad hand up to Anastasius’ head, cupping the back of it as he pulled it up towards him, holding him in a bent position that bordered on uncomfortable.

“What are you asking for?”

Anastasius swallowed.

“Please, I want to feel your cock in me.”

It seemed to do the trick, for he saw Nicodemus’ beautiful eyes light up for a moment before he kissed him again and then let go, sitting back on his heels.

“This might put too much pressure on your stomach, especially since I doubt I will be able to control myself.” He smirked. “You should be on hands and knees instead. Don’t worry about falling forward, I will hold you.”

Nicodemus grabbed him by the arms and pulled him up, then turned him around. He had the strength to handle him like that and realising that he was positioned to be fucked, like some sort of doll, entirely at Nicodemus’ mercy, made Anastasius’ heartbeat quicken. One strong arm wrapped under his shoulder and across his chest, grasping on to his other shoulder. Nicodemus held him in place as he lined himself up after dragging his cock between his cheeks. Anastasius held his breath when he felt him push home.

“Finally back where I wanted to be the day I left for the west, my king.”

Though he used his title, it sounded more like he reinforced his status as owner, all the emphasis on that small word _my_. Nicodemus brought his other arm up to support Anastasius before he started to fuck into him at a speed that betrayed he must have been holding back until now. Anastasius actually heard himself moaning in response and he had never been a man of such loud passion.

As he was still marvelling at his own reaction, Nicodemus tore him backwards, taking away the chance to lean on his hands and leaving him to support himself on shaking knees or fall into Nicodemus’ embrace, body suspended as Nicodemus took him hard. Anastasius’ eyes grew wide as he felt Nicodemus ram every inch of his cock into him with short, quick thrusts, relentless in pace and endurance. He sank his teeth into Anastasius’ shoulder as he let one hand drop to his manhood. Anastasius did not last longer than a couple of strokes of his long fingers.

Nicodemus let him sink forwards, then, careful not to leave him floundering on his belly still. Anastasius used the last of his returning strength to push back into him a little, give him something to conquer. From the way Nicodemus groaned and tightened his grip, rocking into him hard until Anastasius moved just to his whims, it had not been a bad idea. Nicodemus spent himself deep inside him, never letting go off Anastasius.

When they were done, Nicodemus spread Anastasius out on his back, gently now, and laid beside him. Anastasius was still catching him breath as he smiled up at him.

“You should come around every night.”

Nicodemus laughed at him. It was a beautiful sound, free and unaffected, and Anastasius basked in it.

“Until you throw me out, I promise,” he said.

“That may take a while.”

Turning, Nicodemus laid his arm across Anastasius’ chest and grinned.

“I should hope so.”


End file.
